


Diary of Norris Firestar, Season 13, Day 78: A (Fire)star is born!

by YourGenderHere



Series: Diary of Norris Firestar [1]
Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 23:48:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30029745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourGenderHere/pseuds/YourGenderHere
Summary: Norris Firestar begins their Blaseball career at a Houston Spies away game versus the Miami Dale. Despite being born literally that day, Norris knows much - but doesn't yet know why they're here.
Series: Diary of Norris Firestar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209119
Kudos: 7





	Diary of Norris Firestar, Season 13, Day 78: A (Fire)star is born!

Dear Diary,

So, I've had a pretty eventful first day of, erm, being alive.  
The first thing I remember is coming out of my shell, literally, in the dugout of my new... Blaseball, is it called? I'll have to ask for clarification. In any event, my "Blaseball" team's dugout.  
The other players on my team seemed quite surprised indeed to see me. Most were fascinatedly watching a stadium employee sweep away a terrible ashen mess before they realized I had popped up, but those that did notice me were staring at me as if I had just put on the show of my life. After providing a polite cough, I decided to take a seat behind me. No need contributing further to the awkwardness of the moment.  
Before long a new inning began, and so did my Blaseball career; with only beginner's luck on my side, I swept that tiny ball of leather and blood straight into the right field's wall! The rush of running to third base fully awakened me from the drowsiness left over from my incubation. 'Here,' I remember thinking, 'stands Norris Firestar, batter for the-' I glanced at the scoreboard to confirm that I had the location and name correct -'Houston Spies!'  
Play proceeded and I dare say I really held my own out there. After each return to the dugout I scanned the faces of my teammates to see if any were ready to remark upon my successes, but on the contrary, they appeared to be deliberately ignoring me, as if my presence were a bother. Instinctively I understood that there was trouble afoot, and resolved to let not my discomfort tarnish the experience of what was in all other respects a lovely match.

Speaking of which, what a splendid ending! With the adrenaline of play beginning to disperse and the rush of victory warming my heart, I determined that the ideal moment to make my introduction had arrived.  
"Good evening, teammates! A pleasure to join your ranks. I am Norris Firebird, but please, call me Norris! I'm thrilled to be-"  
And I would have continued had my audience continued to listen, but several Spies turned their backs on me and gloomily marched to the locker room.  
Now I know what you're thinking, diary, but I was in fact not offended in the slightest. The battlefield is no place to harry others regarding their manners, and at the time I was certain that an opportunity for a first-and-a-half impression would arrive before long. Tensions were clearly high, too, and sour moods prompt sweetness in return. Empathy trumps etiquette every time, I say!

One fine fellow among those remaining decided to approach and pull me in for a discreet relay of information.  
"We're not staying here. Come with me."  
"Very well. Lead on!" was my whisper in response.  
We stepped briefly into the locker room, and my guide left my side to briefly consult with a handsome fellow wearing a quite stylish sleeveless trench coat. I nervously fiddled about with my feathers for a bit, and then my guide returned to me.  
"Let's go."  
"Let's!"

And so began our journey down the street to a hotel visible from the stadium entrance. Miami, right? A lively place, to be sure! My compatriot swiveled their neck-mounted camera in my direction and prompted a return to our conversation.  
"There was nothing personal back there. Most of us just weren't ready to meet you yet. Hell, I'm not ready to meet you yet, but someone had to rise to the occasion, and apparently that's me."  
"Much appreciated, and certainly no hard feelings. Might I learn your name?"  
"J-ORDAn [they/them]. I'll give you the full acronym later. We're on the 4th floor."  
My robotic guide selected the appropriate button and we were fortunate enough to board an elevator immediately.  
And then, ah, the awkward elevator moment. My first, and no doubt not my last. This prompted me to ponder, apropos of nothing, how I knew what an elevator moment was, or even what an elevator was.

But before that daydream made it far, we reached our floor. Jordan led me to a room- 425, I believe. Jordan then searched their trench coat pockets for the keycard required for entry.  
"Uh... hmmm... here."  
Keycard located! As I was led inside I decided to examine my temporary living quarters. A cozy room with two twin beds, a desk, chair, nightstand, and microwave. Against the headboard of the bed on the left laid a magnificent sword, runes of arcane origin inscribed along the blade from hilt to tip. On the surface of the one on the right, meanwhile, was a small army of plush animal friends, various in their species and sizes, strewn across crumpled sheets.  
Jordan was silent, so I turned to them and noticed that their lens/eye was transfixed on the plushies. After letting stew a short silence, I cleared my throat.  
"Jordan, I must ask: in light of these two beds being occupied, where am I to sleep? Shall I call for a cot?"  
Jordan remained silent for a moment, and then, diary, acted most unexpectedly- they turned to the microwave, reared back a fist, and punctured the front screen of it with ease!  
Dismayed by this display, I attempted to lift Jordan's obviously poor mood. Before I could do so, however, Jordan beat me to the (ha ha!) punch.  
"Yours is the one on the right. Just move the stuff into the corner. DO NOT get rid of any of it."  
"Understood, friend!"

Having completed their mission, Jordan exited the room, closing the door behind themselves somewhat noisily. It bears repeating: no ill will need be cast upon a comrade in distress.  
At that point, I was then alone for the first time in my life. Before relaxing in earnest, I pondered my next move. That's when I realized that Jordan took the keycard with them. A short scan of the room revealed that there was no spare for me to take, and as a result I would be unable to return to my quarters should I take my leave. In a way, I was trapped.

And so circumstances dictated that I catch my breath and relax. Noting that there was neither a TV, a computer, nor a smartphone of my own to use, I rummaged around for a pen and paper.  
This successful search returned you, dear diary, and we are now current to this present moment! I'll need a new way to occupy myself while waiting for a teammate to join me here, and I believe cleaning up the shattered glass scattered about the floor is a good place to start.  
I shall sign off by recording in ink my sincere hope for the near future: as soon as is practical, I hope to learn of the source of my teammates' melancholy and address it as best I can. After all, I'm in it for the long haul with the Houston Spies, and there's no doubt in my mind that I'll be welcomed into the fold as soon as they're ready.  
Until then, diary, take care and farewell!

**Author's Note:**

> Norris Firestar was incinerated at the bottom the 8th inning of a Houston Spies away game versus the Ohio Worms on Season 13, Day 99.


End file.
